


Daddy's Home

by Morgana



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Daddy Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2009-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-06 04:34:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgana/pseuds/Morgana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angel needs a strong father figure and Spike does his best to fit the bill</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ZoeSmith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoeSmith/gifts).



The jangling sound of his keys in the lock was answered immediately by a glad cry of “Daddy!” Spike barely had time to brace himself before he was tackled, and even then, he got knocked to his knees. But he didn't care, not when arms wrapped around his neck and dry lips presssed briefly against his cheek. “Daddy, you're home,” Angel murmured sweetly in his ear.

“Yeah,” Spike answered, giving him a little squeeze before pushing him gently away. “Always come home, you know that.” He's had to spend more time reassuring him lately, and he wonders if it has anything to do with the anniversary that's coming up. But those kind of thoughts turn him maudlin, and he's been doing his best to keep his spirits up, if only for Angel's sake.

Getting to his feet, Spike tossed his keys on the counter and headed for the refrigerator. “You eat yet?” he asked casually, pretending not to notice when Angel snatched the keys up and hung them on the peg he was always nagging Spike to use. Deciding not to wait for an answer that he knew wouldn't be true anyway, he pulled several bags of blood out, then set about fixing them both dinner. He popped them in the microwave and leaned back against the counter, opening his arms while he waited for them to heat. “C'mere, pet.” Angel moved easily into his arms and Spike hugged him close, resting his cheek against one shoulder. He basked in the contented quiet for a few too-short minutes until the beep of the microwave yanked him back to reality and he had to pull free to fetch the mugs.

They ate dinner in front of the TV, a common occurrence, and when they were done, Angel took the mugs into the kitchen and put them in the sink to soak, then hurried back into the living room. With supper out of the way, he stretched out on the couch with his head in Spike's lap, only half-watching TV, and when long fingers sank into his hair and started petting him, he gave up on the pretense entirely. Once he was sure that Angel wouldn't notice, Spike leaned over to grab the remote control and flipped over to BBC America. The next two hours were spent watching first Dr Who and then Torchwood, and by the time he turned the TV off, Spike was completely relaxed. He wasn't overly inclined to disturb Angel, who somehow managed to fall asleep on him just about every night, so he idly combed his fingers through the dark hair and let his mind wander until Angel stirred and he found himself looking down into hazy brown eyes.

“You look tired,” Spike murmured, running his thumb over Angel's cheek. “Should get to bed, yeah? Gonna be a long day tomorrow.” Every day was a long one these days, but both of them have learned not to complain. After all, they're still alive to have long days; too many of their friends can't say as much.

“Comfortable,” Angel mumbled. “Don't wanna get up.” But he did anyway, with no little amount of poking and prodding from Spike, and eventually he shuffled into the bathroom, emerging in his sweat pants with the scent of mint clinging to him. Spike watched him walk zombie-like into the bedroom before following suit, brushing his teeth and changing quickly. When he was done, he headed into Angel's room, hoping that he hadn't gone back to sleep just yet. Luck was with him, because as soon as he sank down onto the bed, arms wrapped around him from behind and pulled him close.

He stiffened slightly as Angel nestled into his neck, unable to fight his body's reflexes. “Tuck me in, Daddy,” he whispered huskily, and Spike had to bite back a groan. He swallowed hard and nodded jerkily, mechanically going about the motions- sheet drawn up over a bare chest, hugs, kisses, and words of love that made his heart ache. Finally, Angel was settled and he could escape to his own room.

As soon as the door closed behind him, he climbed into bed and shoved his pants down, hissing with a combination of relief and pained pleasure when his erection sprang free. He might not sleep nude anymore, the sweats a concession to Angel's modesty, but he wasn't about to start wearing underwear- he's not that housebroken. Not yet, anyway. Wrapping one hand around his shaft, he sighed softly and started stroking himself, thinking again about the lips that had pressed against his neck, the way his breath had whispered over his skin, and the raspy whisper that beckoned him closer to sin every single day.

There was no denying that he wanted Angel- he always had, probably always would. He'd come to that realization a long time ago, but that was before the alley and the fight with Wolfram &amp; Hart, back when wanting Angel wasn't enough to make him half-sick with disgust at his own perversion. Now, though... how could he justify his desire for the innocent creature in the next room? How could he seriously think of wanting him, when he knows Angel has no concept of it anymore, when he knows the other vampire's mind was all but fried in his battle with the dragon? Angel had been lucky to come out of it alive, and while Spike used to hold out hope that one day he'd actually get his sire back, he's come to accept that the Angel he knew is gone forever. In his place is a charming, child-like vampire with the mindset of a ten-year-old who, for reasons known only to himself, calls him Daddy every chance he gets.

His cock twitched and he groaned, swiping his thumb over the leaking head and tightening his grip. Fuck, why did Angel have to call him that? Anything else and he'd be fine, but Daddy... It made him want all sorts of things he no longer has a right to, made him wonder what it would be like to take that sweet innocence to bed and teach him another way to make Daddy happy. Jesus, he was a sick fucking twat, but once he'd started, he couldn't seem to stop. He closed his eyes, picturing Angel's eyes wide with pleasure or hot with need as Spike sucked him off or fucked him. Would he moan, or whimper for more?

“Oh, God,” Spike gasped, the words breaking free, overly loud in the silent room. He thrust up into his hand, thinking about Angel sprawled beneath him, and when his fantasy Angel whimpered, 'Daddy,' Spike couldn't hold back. He bit his lip to hold back his moan and squeezed his dick hard as he came, silvery trails marking his abdomen as he slowly eased back down from his orgasm, pictures of Angel crying out for Daddy still dancing vividly behind his eyes.

As soon as the pleasure eased enough for him to think, he was disgusted with himself again. “Sick fuck,” he growled, angrily wiping himself off with the corner of the sheet. He hated the dark fantasies and twisted dreams that haunted him, hated himself even more every time he gave into them, but he didn't seem to know how to stop. And if he were absolutely, brutally honest, he had to admit that he really didn't want to.


	2. Chapter 2

Wednesday nights were his favorite, because Tammy left early for class, and he actually got to stay by himself for a few hours. Angel waited until he heard the front door close, then counted to a hundred, listening for any sound that might mean he wasn't completely alone. When he was sure that she wasn't coming back, he pushed his door open and crept down the hall into Daddy's room. He wasn't supposed to be in here unless Daddy was with him, and he knew he'd get in trouble if he was ever caught, but he didn't care.

Like always, he started with the closet, sliding the door open and staring at the shirts that hung there. All sorts of colors, the fabrics soft and slick, and soon he was running his hand over them and even leaning in to stroke his cheek over a few special ones. Daddy never wore these, always had on the same jeans and T-shirt, and from the look in his eyes when Angel had asked him to wear the blue shirt, Angel guessed these shirts made him sad. But he hadn't gotten rid of them, just left them in the closet, and although he wished Daddy would wear them, Angel couldn't help being glad they were still here.

He closed the door and walked over to the bookcase, trailing his fingers over the spines of the volumes. Daddy never let him read these, and while Angel really wasn't that interested in reading, he wondered why these books were special. They looked old, and some of them had writing on the sides that wasn't in English, so he guessed that was it. Someday, when he got smarter, he was going to learn every language there was, and then he'd be able to understand everything. For now, though, he just liked to touch the books and feel how soft the leather coverings were.

Angel liked leather. It smelled really good, rich and heavy in a way that made him want to purr. Daddy said it was his demon, that they all liked it because it was the hide of something that was once living, but Angel thought it was more than that. There was something _special_ about leather, something that went deeper, although he knew the demon was part of it. The demon liked fur, too, and deerskin, but his yearning for the cool, heavy feel of leather was different in a way that he couldn't really explain. He just knew he wanted it, would wear it all the time if he could, but so far the only thing Daddy had let him have was a black jacket. And while it was cool, it wasn't enough.

Scowling at the unfairness of it all, he kicked his shoes off and climbed up onto the bed. As he crawled under the comforter and stretched out on top of the sheet, the scent of Daddy curled around him, like a physical embrace that drove his brief bad mood swiftly away. This was what he loved best about Wednesday nights, the smell and feel of Daddy all around him, even if Daddy wouldn't be home for hours yet. He pulled the comforter up and turned over onto his stomach, arms slipping under one of the pillows to pull it close, nuzzling down into the soft fabric to take deep breaths that filled his senses with Daddy, when something rustled under the pillow.

He frowned, wondering why there was something strange in Daddy's bed, and slid his hand under the pillow, fishing the thing out. It was a magazine! But why would Daddy have a magazine in his bed? Angel shoved the pillow aside and propped himself up on his elbows, then opened the magazine and stared at it, his eyes widening at the pictures that stared up at him from the glossy pages. A man was laying on a bed, his shirt off and feet bare, but more than the man's lack of clothing, what really caught his attention was how much the man looked like Daddy! He had the same bright blond hair, and while his eyes weren't quite the same dark blue as Daddy's, they were close enough that Angel had to look closely to tell the difference. The man was stretched out on his back, just how Angel liked to lay in Daddy's bed, and it looked like he was getting ready for bed, since he was unbuttoning his jeans.

When he turned the page, there was another man, tall and dark, and he was laying half-on, half-off of the blond man, like Angel did sometimes with Daddy after a tickle-fight. He was kissing the blond's neck, and the blond had one hand on his shoulder, holding him close, but it was the dark man's hand that made Angel frown. It was between the two men, wrapped around the blond's Thing. Another picture showed him sitting up, with the blond in front of him, still holding the other man's Thing. But it didn't look right- it was big, so much bigger than Angel's, and it stood straight up!

He studied the blond's face, wondering if whatever was different about his Thing hurt, but he couldn't tell. Deciding that maybe there were more pictures, he flipped the page, then sucked in a short breath at the sight of the dark man with the blond man's Thing in his mouth! This time there was no mistaking the expression on the blond's face, though, not when his eyes were closed and his mouth open. Angel lightly traced the open curve of his mouth, then slowly moved down to touch the place where his Thing disappeared into the dark man's mouth. His stomach fluttered a little as he touched the picture, tightening like it did when he knew Daddy was on his way home.

Quickly moving on to the next picture, his jaw dropped at the sight of the dark man sitting on the blond. It was just like how he tackled Daddy, but now they were both naked, and while he couldn't see the blond's Thing anymore, he could see the dark man's- he was touching it, holding it just like he had the blond's in the earlier picture. Angel stared, unaware of his hips beginning to move slowly, working his stiffening cock against the mattress, too wrapped up in the photos and the strange world they were opening to him to notice. He wondered if it hurt the blond to have the other man sitting on him like that- it never seemed to hurt Daddy, although he did sometimes make Angel get off, telling him he was too heavy.

Was the dark man heavy, too? The blond's face was all screwed up, like he might be, and his mouth was open like he was yelling. His hands were on the dark man's hips, too, but Angel couldn't tell if he was pushing him off, or not. It seemed like he was, because the next picture showed the dark man kneeling in front of him. They were both holding their Things, and he realized what must've been making them different, because there was some sort of white liquid coming out of the dark man's. More liquid was on the blond's stomach, and Angel frowned, reaching out to touch it, when something very strange happened.

His whole body shuddered, and his tummy flipped over and over but in a really good way, like when Daddy chased him and then pretended to bite his neck. He was just about to go back to reading when he realized he was wet Down There. Slamming the magazine closed, Angel yanked the pillow over it and scrambled off the bed, but it was too late. A big wet spot showed right in the middle of Daddy's bed, the dark stain matching the one on his pants that was already leaving him cold and clammy. He whimpered, knowing that Daddy was gonna be mad when he saw his bed- so mad he might not love him anymore. And if Daddy didn't love him anymore, there was nothing to keep him here. He might go away one night and not come back! The thought of Daddy leaving, on top of the shame of his accident, was too much for him. Angel turned and fled for the safety of his room and the comfort of dry clothes.


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing he noticed was the complete lack of sound. No yelling, no running, no babble of the TV, no inane cartoons with singing unicorns riding rainbows out of the sea or some such nonsensical shit. All told, it added up to one thing: no Angel. Panic seized hold of him, and Spike had to struggle to keep his voice even as he called out for him. “Angel? Pet, you in here?” There was no answer, so he went to look, praying to a God he hasn't believed in for a hundred years that he fell asleep. Yes, that was it- he was worn out, so he laid down, and he was too fast asleep to hear Spike calling him. “Angel? C'mon, baby, need you to-”

Oh, Christ. Angel's bed was empty, the sheets still smooth and pristine, his room utterly devoid of any signs of either a struggle or a runaway. Shit! Had he gone somewhere, wandered off after Tammy left? And if he had, how the hell was Spike ever supposed to get him back? It wasn't like he was a small child- regardless of what might be going on in his head, he looked like a grown man. A grown man who was sexy as hell, but could be taken advantage of so easily...

Cursing under his breath, Spike turned and stalked into his room, already mentally cataloguing his weapons chest and running down a checklist of what he'd need that he could carry in public. Stakes, knives in the wrist sheaths, and it probably wouldn't hurt to take Wes' old Browning, just in case. He'd call Tammy first, and if she didn't know, he'd check in with Red; Angel liked it at her house, said it made him feel warm and safe, so if something had happened, he might've tried to get there. Either way, when Spike found him, he was going to tear him a new one, but only after he'd hugged the stuffing out of him, first.

The scent hit him while he was pulling his knives out, like a smack in the face that sent him reeling away from the dresser, slamming the drawer closed with a thud. He sniffed the air, scarcely able to believe it- Angel, but this wasn't the smell of freshly washed sweatpants and crayons and sticky-sweet popsicles. No, this was old blood, and power, and- Spike yanked the cover off his bed and stared in disbelief at the stain in the middle of his sheets.

“Angel! Get in here now!” His voice vibrated with fury, enough to bring Angel running in from wherever he'd been hiding. The sight of him was almost enough to yank Spike out of his anger, but when he got close, the smell of sex and come that still clung to him made the blond see red instead. One hand shot out to grip Angel's wrist, hauling the other man up hard against the bed. “What the hell d'you think you're on about, then?” Spike snarled, stepping up behind him to keep him pinned. He pressed him against the wood frame, twisting his captive arm until Angel cried out softly in pain. “Think you can just come in here an' jerk off in my bed an' I won't say a word, is that it?” When Angel didn't say anything, he jerked harder. “IS IT?!?”

“No, Daddy!” Angel struggled against the hold, but Spike held tight. “I didn't mean it. Please let me go... I'm sorry, Daddy!”

The words were like hot coals heaped on his temper. Spike shoved him forward and yanked his pants down, then brought one hand down on his bare ass. “Don't lie to me!” he barked, smacking him again when Angel tried to speak. “Know you shouldn't've been in here.” _Thwack._ “Not supposed to come in my room without me.” _Crack._ “Gonna have to wash my bed to get your dirty mess off of it.” Spike rained blows down on his upturned ass, any thought of control utterly dissolved in his fury. “An' now you wanna stand there an' tell me you're SORRY?!?” he howled, hitting him hard enough to make the bed beneath him shake.

Angel bit his lip and shook his head, and Spike caught a glimpse of miserable brown eyes and flushed, tear-stained cheeks. “I'm sorry, Daddy,” he whimpered, the soft, childlike sound catching at his childe's heart, reminding him again of his sire's fragile state. It was like a bucket of cold water thrown over his rage, and as Spike looked down at the reddened skin that was radiating an almost human-level of heat, he hated himself all over again. God, what had he done?

“Shh, it's okay,” he murmured, smoothing one hand over the heated flesh before urging him off the bed. Bending down to pull his pants up, he said quietly, “I know you didn't mean-” then cut himself off at the sight of Angel's dick. Angel's extremely _hard_ dick. Wrapping his hand around the shaft, he ignored the way Angel jerked at the touch and asked, “What's this, then?” His voice sounded far calmer than he'd known it could be, and when Angel didn't answer immediately, he gave him a squeeze.

Angel jerked again and cried out, “Daddy!” in a high, thin voice that sent blood surging straight to Spike's groin. He reached down to adjust his erection, never letting go of Angel as he straightened up. All at once, he understood. The injury, the childlike reactions, the sudden referral to him as Daddy... it was one of Angel's little sex games! He'd probably wanted Spike to take control, but didn't know how to ask for it, so figured he'd be a brat until he wound up getting spanked- just like him, really, acting out to get what he wanted without asking for it. Of course, in the old days, there was only one thing that had ever followed a spanking...

Rubbing his palm over the swelling in his own jeans, Spike let his gaze drift over Angel's frame, giving thanks for the first time since the alley that the brunet refused to wear a shirt most of the time. He really was beautiful, even more so now that he'd been spanked and his gorgeous ass was a lovely shade of pink. “You were a bad boy, sneakin' into Daddy's room like that,” he purred, squeezing Angel once more before pushing him back down onto the bed and stroking the swell of his ass again.

The large body under his hands shivered, and he heard Angel's breath hitch, although he couldn't have said whether it was from the caress or the fact that he'd just referred to himself as Daddy for the first time. “I know, Daddy,” he whimpered. “I'm really, really sorry.”

“I know you are,” Spike assured him, turning to grab the tube that he kept on the nightstand. “An' you're gonna make it up to me, ain'tcha?” Angel opened his mouth, but Spike stroked two fingers down along the crease of his ass, and he shuddered instead. “Stay still like a good boy for Daddy, yeah?”

Flipping the cap open, he quickly lubed up three fingers, then yanked his jeans open, hissing softly as his cock sprang out. He coated it with the slick gel as well, tossed the tube aside, and brushed slick fingers over Angel's opening, smiling at the way he squirmed in response. “That's it,” he murmured. “Such a good boy. Gotta hold still, though.”

Two fingers slid up inside, the startled squawk of “Daddy!” that they elicited drowned out by Spike's low groan. Smooth silk wrapped around his fingers, so tight that he couldn't wait to drive his cock into it, and he did his best to get him ready quickly, twisting his hand as he drove his fingers in and out several times, only briefly rubbing over Angel's prostate. Any other time, he'd have taken it slow, driven the other man insane with need and made him beg over and over, but with Angel squirming underneath him, he couldn't wait any more.

Pulling his fingers free, he wrapped his hand around his cock, pressing one hand against Angel's back to keep him still as he brought the head up against his hole. Angel screamed as Spike thrust inside him and he tore, and in some part of his lust-drugged brain, Spike realized he hadn't been as ready as he'd thought. But as tight silk closed around his aching cock, the long months of celibacy with only his tortured dreams for relief took their toll, and he could no more have stopped himself than he could've walked out into the sun. “Shhhh, baby,” he muttered thickly, pulling back and driving forward again.

Angel screamed again, struggling beneath him, but Spike pushed him down and ground against him, holding him pinned like a butterfly on a board. “Yeah, that's it,” he panted. “Feel so good, baby. You're so tight around Daddy's cock.” He couldn't wait any longer, couldn't hold himself back anymore. Blind to his sire's struggles, the wild, pained cries failed to register as he started to move, fucking him with long, hard thrusts that rocked the bed under their combined weight. Spike groaned when Angel squirmed frantically, the motion serving only to drive him even deeper inside. “Ohhhh fuck, yeah. That's good, baby, sooooo good for Daddy.”

He wanted it to go on forever, wanted to spend the rest of the night buried deep inside him, but his balls were already drawing up tight, and Spike began to fuck him harder, faster, driving his cock inside as he chased his orgasm. One hand clutched Angel's hip, hauling him back and holding him in place while he hammered him, moaning low in his throat as he got closer. “Yeah... fuck... ohhhh yeah, baby...”

“Daddy!” Angel sobbed, and the broken plea sent Spike soaring. He cried out in response as he came, every nerve in his body singing out as though he'd been hooked up to a live wire. It was so much better than he'd imagined, so good that he could only hold on to Angel and ride it out, jerking and driving his cock deep into the body below him as he shot over and over again.

When he finally gained some semblance of reason, he realized how selfish he'd been. But when he slid his hand around to see to Angel, he found sticky fluid and limp flesh, and the shudder that answered him spoke clearly of the kind of pained sensitization that only comes after climax. His dick twitched at the thought that Angel had come just from the fucking, but it was too soon to fully harden, so he eased back, carefully pulling free. He was already reaching for the sheet to wipe himself off when he saw it.

Blood. Smeared all over his dick until it looked like he'd painted himself with it, bright red and shining up at him in silent accusation. Spike looked up to see Angel crawl completely onto the bed and curl up in a ball, and for the first time, he heard the soft sobbing that had obviously been going on all along. “I'm sorry, Daddy. I'm so sorry. Please, Daddy, please stop. I'll be good, I promise.”

The sheet slid out of suddenly numb fingers. “Bloody hell,” Spike whispered.


	4. Chapter 4

He was the lowest form of scum that had ever existed. Forget Napoleon, forget Mussolini, forget Hitler- Spike was the true monster, the one that put them all to shame. If that hadn't been proved when he'd attacked Buffy, it certainly had now- but this time there had been no Slayer to stop him, nothing standing in the way of his wild desire. And an innocent heart would pay the price for his sins yet again.

Moving as slowly as he could, Spike reached out towards the shuddering figure at the end of the bed, wincing when he drew back with a whimper. “Shhh, pet,” he murmured. “Not gonna hurt you, I promise. Just need to see how bad it is, yeah?”

Angel raised tear-filled eyes to meet his, a shudder racking his body, and Spike could practically see the wheels in his head turning. Trust was warring with pain, memories of both battling it out until finally he nodded and looked away, sorrow and shame clearly written on his face. Spike's heart ached at the thought that he'd been responsible for any way in destroying the other man's sweet nature. He looked at all the nights to come and tried to imagine never again being greeted with a hug and kiss, or a happy shout of “Daddy!” and an icy chill crept up his spine.

Laying one hand over Angel's, he gave it a gentle squeeze. “Show me where it hurts, luv,” he told him.

Angel hesitated, but slowly lowered Spike's hand, rolling over onto his stomach and bringing it down to his ass. He hissed when Spike's fingers brushed lightly over his hole, and Spike moved a little closer. “Shhh, baby,” he hushed softly. “Gonna make it all better, yeah? Take all the hurt away. Just- stay still for Daddy, 'kay?”

Burying his face in the crook of one arm, Angel nodded. Spike slowly drew one of his legs up, settling him a little more comfortably on the bed, then carefully parted his cheeks and studied him. The sight was enough to make him feel sick, and he swallowed hard at the sight of torn and bleeding flesh. “Christ,” he whispered. “I'm sorry, pet. Never meant to- wasn't tryin' to hurt you, baby, swear I wasn't.”

He lowered his head, placing a tender kiss on the battered hole. Angel jerked under him, and Spike's hand rose, petting the curve of his hip. “Shhh,” he murmured, “Not gonna hurt you, luv. Daddy's gonna make it feel better, yeah?”

The only answer he received was a faint whimper, but when Angel didn't try to pull away, Spike kissed him again, stroking his hip as he tended to him. He could smell blood and his own semen, and when he instinctively lapped at one of the tears in the fragile tissue, the ragged sound above him made him freeze. “Baby? Did that hurt?”

“No, Daddy.”

Angel's voice was so small, like a child afraid to talk too loud, and Spike licked him again, just the tiniest flick of his tongue, and when Angel moaned, he knew that it wasn't pain that had pulled the sound free. “That feel good, pet? Help with the hurt?”

He glanced up to see the dark head move. “Yes, Daddy,” Angel's muffled voice answered, and Spike rewarded him with another tender lick. When there was no further protest, he licked around the edges of the damaged pucker, slowly cleaning the blood and come from the man he'd so thoughtlessly raped.

Once he was clean, Spike shifted briefly, slicing his tongue open on a fang, then started to lick him again, mixing his blood with Angel's to help the tears heal faster. He would've tried to get Angel to drink from him if he thought he'd take it, but in his current state, Spike thought that kind of request would prove too much for the fragile vampire. He swirled his tongue around, hiding a smile as he heard Angel gasp and smelled the first real burst of pheromones that told him the healing was having another effect as well.

With the next pass of his tongue, the blond pushed gently against his sire's hole, groaning as his tongue slipped inside just the smallest bit. He didn't push for too much, didn't want to frighten Angel more than he already had, so he contented himself with the barest taste before he retreated and returned to licking him, moving a little faster as the scent of Angel's arousal grew stronger.

A whimper from above made him lift his head, and he stroked the damp skin slowly with one finger, but when Angel arched his back, raising his ass like he was trying to push back onto it, he frowned. Surely he couldn't be asking for... “Baby, did you like that, what I just did?”

Angel nodded and Spike bent to him again, swiping his tongue over his hole. “Relax, luv. Gonna help make it better, but I need you to relax.” He felt the other man shudder, but he obeyed, and Spike was able to carefully push his tongue inside once more.

“Daddy... Daddy, it feels- oooohhhhh,” Angel crooned, shifting in an attempt to get some kind of friction on his dick. Spike tightened his grasp on his hip, holding him steady as he slowly tongue-fucked him, doing his best to keep his own desire at bay. This was for Angel, not for him.

Pulling back for just a second, he slid one finger into his mouth and quickly sucked on it. When it was as wet as he could get it, he pressed it against Angel's hole. “Push back for me, baby.”

Angel moaned as the movement brought Spike's finger into his body. “Daddy, I don't- it's-”

“Shhh, luv, I know. It'll be better in a second,” Spike soothed him. He didn't bother teasing, not with as wound up and obviously confused as the brunet was. A few quick rubs of his fingertip against his prostate brought it all to a head and he watched Angel jerk and cry out as he came again, come shooting out of his dick to soak the sheets beneath him.

Once he was sure it was over, Spike eased his finger free, and tugged Angel down to the side. “I wet the bed again,” Angel whispered, staring at the dark stain on the sheets where he'd been lying with horror. “I'm sorry, Daddy; I really didn't mean to...”

“It's okay, sweetheart,” Spike assured him, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead. “I'm not mad at you. Here, you lay here for a second an' I'll be right back, yeah?”

When Angel nodded, he slipped out of the bed and hurried into the bathroom for a washcloth. Wringing it out, he walked back into the bedroom and carefully cleaned his charge in front and back, then wiped the last traces of evidence from his own cock, the blood and dried semen that clung to his skin making him feel sick all over again. Jesus Christ, he really was damned.

As he hung the washcloth up and went back to bed to crawl in beside Angel and pull him into his arms, Spike could only hope that he hadn't just damned Angel along with him.


	5. Chapter 5

“Daddy?”

“Yes, luv?” Spike gave Angel an indulgent smile as the bigger man scooted over on the couch, nestling up against his side. Sudden affection from Angel almost always meant he was about to ask for something- usually some small treat like chocolate fudge mint chip ice cream or special art supplies, and Spike had found himself more inclined to spoil him lately, so whatever it was, he'd probably get it. He wrapped one arm around his shoulders and squeezed him gently, then kissed the top of his head. “Somethin' you wanted, pet?”

“Why did those men in your magazine look like that?”

Spike choked on the sip of blood he'd just taken. He should've known, should've realized that the respite was only temporary, but after two weeks, Spike had begun to relax, thinking that maybe the same thing that had damaged Angel's mind had removed the memory from it. But apparently, fate wasn't as kind as he'd hoped. “What magazine?” he croaked when he could speak. “Not sure what you're talkin' about.”

Angel gave him an exasperated look that said more clearly than words that he wasn't buying into the innocent act. “The one under your pillow, Daddy. With the men wrestling and playing together.”

_Shit._ Setting his cup on the end table, Spike gently pushed Angel back and turned to face him, telling himself that it was probably just innocent curiosity that had led him to ask about the skin mag. “What'd you want to know about 'em, then?”

“What was wrong with their Things?”

The question was almost laughable in its simplicity, but as Spike's mind desperately floundered about in search of an answer, the very last thing he felt like doing was laughing. “Well... uh, guess that depends on what you mean by wrong.”

“Their Things were big, and they stuck straight up, like this.” Angel held his hand up to demonstrate, and Spike was very glad vampires couldn't blush. “What made their Things like that, Daddy?”

He wondered which would be worse, some sort of half-lie that might make the questioning stop, or the possibility that he could completely fuck this all up with the truth. Those big, brown eyes that were staring at him held a depth of purity and a guileless appeal that called out, in a very sick and twisted way, to the demon inside him. Was this what had led the serpent to tempt Eve in the Garden, this desire to see carnal knowledge in the sweetest and most innocent of creatures?

So... truth or lie? Well, he'd never been the best liar, so when in doubt... Spike took a deep breath and replied, “They were hard, sweetling. Means they wanted each other, wanted to fu- uh, kiss an' hug each other, make each other feel good.” There, that was simple enough, wasn't it?

Apparently not, because Angel wasn't nearly done with his questions. “You mean like I kiss you, Daddy? But my Thing doesn't look like theirs.”

“It's not a Thing, pet- it's a cock.” Might as well teach him the proper words for it while he was at it. “An' that kinda kissin'... it's different. Means somethin' else.” He cast about in vain for the right words, then settled lamely on, “ 'S a special way they show how much they love each other.”

Angel though about that for a moment. “But you don't kiss me like that, and you love me, don't you, Daddy?”

_Christ!_ Was he really not understanding, or just being deliberately obtuse as some subtle sort of revenge for what Spike had done? There was no way of knowing, and nothing showed in his eyes, so Spike had to trust that he wasn't explaining it right. He tried switching tactics instead. “Hey, how about some ice cream? Bet there's a whole tub of chocolate fudge mint chip just sittin' in the freezer waitin' for somebody to come eat it.”

“Does it hurt for their... cocks to be hard like that?” Angel asked, stumbling over the unfamiliar word as he pressed on, ignoring the attempted bribe. He didn't seem ready to let the subject go anytime soon, so Spike sighed and quit trying to avoid it.

“Doesn't hurt, just makes 'em want-” Jesus, how was he supposed to explain fucking to the sweet man-child his sire had become? He certainly couldn't talk about primal need or the urge to bury himself deep inside a willing body until they were so weak from coming they couldn't move, and while he might've offered to show him under a different set of circumstances, doing that with Angel, especially after That Night, was- Spike bit back a groan as he felt his cock harden at the thought of laying him out and teaching him what that little magazine spread had really been about.

“Makes them want what, Daddy?”

Spike gritted his teeth and shifted, trying unobtrusively to adjust himself. “Uh... well, when a bloke's cock gets hard, he wants... he wants someone to touch it, make him feel good, yeah?”

Angel stared at him for a second, and Spike wondered if anything he'd just said had gotten through, or if it was too much information. He could practically see the other man's mind turning, almost hear the thousands of questions he undoubtedly still had, but when Angel just nodded and looked back at the TV, he breathed out on a soft sigh, relieved that he was apparently being spared more of the awkward explanations.

Of course, the lack of further questions wasn't doing anything to make his dick go back down. If anything, the quiet was making it worse, because without the distraction of Angel's chatter, his mind was now free to conjure all sorts of erotic scenarios about the sort of lessons he could offer, ways he could teach his sire to please him, or show him exactly how good it could feel to-

He was too lost in daydreams of Angel writhing beneath him on the bed to notice when the other man stretched out on the couch and put his head in Spike's lap, but the first cautious, curious touch snapped him back to reality. “Daddy, your Th- cock's hard!”

_Shit. ShitshitshitshitSHIT! _Spike tried to ease Angel away from him, but one hand reached out to pet him again and he moaned instead. “Baby, don't- don't do that, okay?”

“But you said that when-”

“I know what I said,” Spike snapped, then immediately regretted it when he saw the hurt look in Angel's eyes as he pulled back. “Just... it's not really the kinda touch that Daddies an' their boys do-” _unless they're sick, perverted vampires like him-_ “an' sometimes it's better if it's the bloke himself who does the touchin'.”

Angel's eyes widened. “Are you gonna touch it like that man in the magazine? Can I see?”

Spike smacked his hand away when he reached out for him again. “Stop it,” he ground out. “Not some sideshow freak that'll perform on cue.”

“But, Daddy, I just wanna see if-”

“I said no!” Angel cringed, and Spike wanted to kick himself. “Not the kinda thing you usually do with someone watchin', pet,” he tried to explain in a calmer tone.

Angel looked away for a minute. “The men in the magazine did it in front of each other,” he muttered sulkily.

Spike was about to point out that there was a lot more those men had done when he realized that this might actually be the answer. Maybe a little peek would satisfy Angel's curiosity and put all of this to rest. “Slide down to the other end, then,” he told the other man. “Need some room, yeah? An' no touchin'.”

“No touching,” Angel agreed, quickly scooting down to the far end of the couch, sliding his hands under his legs the way he always did when Spike told him not to touch something. “Can I see now, Daddy?”

Reaching over to turn on the lamp, Spike slowly started unbuttoning his jeans. He told himself that he was ten thousand kinds of pervert for even considering doing this, but the thought of having those big, brown eyes fastened on him while he tossed off was just too hot to turn down. Reaching inside, he wrapped his hand around his cock and drew it out, pushing the denim back to make sure that Angel had a good view, doing his best to hold still despite the instinct that screamed out for movement. “There you go, baby. See, toldja it was nothin' to worry about.”

He heard Angel swallow hard and looked over to see wide eyes fastened on his erection. Spike bit back a groan as he felt his cock harden further in response to the awed gaze. He slowly stroked one hand up his length, then back down, squeezing tightly at the base to try and help prolong what was shaping up to be a humiliatingly short session. When the first glistening drops of precome appeared, he swiped his thumb over them and leaned his head back, eyes drifting closed as he moaned softly. “Fuck, that feels good.”

There was still no response from the far side of the couch, but as Spike began to pump himself a little faster, he heard Angel's breath speed up as well, and when he moaned again, a faint, shuddering whimper echoed him. “Ohhhh yeah,” he groaned, hips thrusting up into his hand, the knowledge of his silent watcher spurring him on until he could no more have stopped himself than he could've gone sunbathing at noon.

He felt his cock growing slicker, and the faint, wet sounds of his hand moving over his shaft filled the room, he licked his lips and jerked himself harder and faster. “Christ!” he gasped, “Gonna come... NOW!” His hips shot off the sofa, thrusting his cock into his fist as it began to jerk, shooting long strands of creamy white all over his chest and abdomen, the pearly liquid gleaming brightly against his black T-shirt for several seconds before it soaked into the material.

“Daddyyyyy!” The distressed whine jerked him out of any aftermath he might've enjoyed, and Spike yanked his shirt off, quickly cleaning both hand and cock before tucking himself away and hurrying over to where Angel sat. God, he hoped he hadn't just made a colossal mistake and somehow fucked this up!

“Yeah, baby?” he asked anxiously. “What is it, pet?”

Angel squirmed in his seat, casting a fearful look down at his lap. “It's- I think-” He drew a shuddering breath and blurted out, “My cock's hard... and it HURTS!” Accusing brown eyes turned towards Spike. “You said it didn't hurt, Daddy!”

_Fuck._ Spike glanced at the considerable erection that was tenting Angel's sweatpants. He'd obviously been hard for a while, if the dark stain on the front was any indication, but had probably been too wrapped up in Spike's show to realize it. “Shhh, it's okay,” he soothed him. “Here, let's pull your pants down, give it a little room- that'll make it hurt less, yeah?”

Reaching out to tug at the waistband, the blond helped pull the sweats down, leaving Angel to lean back against the couch with a sigh of relief as his erection sprang free. “Better now?” he asked, smiling when the other man nodded. “Good. Now... you touch just like Daddy did, all right?”

Angel slowly curled his hand around his dick and slid it up, then gasped as precome welled up. “It's getting wet, Daddy!”

He started to pull away, but Spike reached out and held his hand in place. “I know, luv; it's supposed to do that, shows you're doin' it right.” The drops at the tip beckoned to him, and he licked his lips, tempted almost beyond bearing to lean down and lap them up. He remembered all too well what it was like to have his sire's cock sliding in and out of his mouth, but something like that would shock his poor, innocent boy, so he contented himself with a brief brush of his finger over the sensitive head. “How's that, baby?”

The gasp and buck up against his hand was immediate. “Ohhhh, Daddy! That's- it feels-” Angel bit his lip, fumbling for words to describe this new sensation.

Spike smiled and swirled his finger around in a slow circle. “I know, pet.” Reaching down, he carefully pried Angel's fingers free, leading the large hand down between his legs to cradle his balls. The sight of Angel sprawled out on the sofa was making his own cock harden again, and he couldn't resist moving a little closer. “Daddy's gonna make it even better,” he promised, curling his hand around Angel's shaft, stroking him slowly from bottom to top.

His only response was a soft moan, and Spike stroked him again. He worked his hand over the hard flesh in long, smooth strokes, knowing that this was likely the only time he was going to get to do this, so he wanted to make it last as long as possible. When Angel squirmed again and pressed up into his fist, Spike reached back into his jeans, pulling his cock back out. Sliding up between Angel's open legs, he leaned forward, bringing their cocks into contact for the first time.

Brown eyes flew open as hard, satin skin brushed hard, satin skin. “Daddy! What- that's- Daddy, do it again!”

“Like that, hmmm?” Spike purred. He released his grip briefly, tugging Angel further down into a slouch so he could lean forward. Planting his hands on the cushions on either side of his sire's head, he pushed forward, his cock gliding slowly along Angel's length. “That feel good, baby, knowin' you got Daddy hard again?”

“Uh-huh,” Angel gasped, his body jerking in response to the words he only vaguely understood. He flexed his hand, knuckles brushing Spike's balls in a way that made him moan and thrust against him again.

“Yeah,” Spike grunted, forcing himself to go as slow and easy as possible. “Daddy likes it too, feelin' his baby's prick against his. Ohhhh, fuck yeah.” He leaned in to brush his lips over Angel's jaw. “So hard an' wet for me, just beggin' me to get you off, aren'tcha?”

Angel moaned, tilting his head back in an invitation that Spike knew he couldn't possibly mean. He clamped down hard on the urge to sink his fangs into that vulnerable throat and contented himself with scoring his teeth lightly over the vein there. “So pretty,” he murmured, one hand sneaking down to wrap around the both of them, holding their dicks together as he started to move faster. “Gonna be so beautiful when you come, pet. An' you're gonna scream for me, show me how much you love it, right?”

Harsh pants answered him. “Daddy,” Angel whimpered. “I can't- it feels- it... oooohhhhh, Daddy!” He shuddered, teetering on the edge of control, and when Spike moaned and pushed forward again, his mouth dropped open, little cries of “Oh, oh, oh, oh,” jerking out with each thrust. The couch beneath them creaked and groaned with their movements, but neither man noticed, both too absorbed in each other and the white-hot fire that threatened to consume them as they chased their orgasms.

Any thoughts of finesse had disappeared, lost in the heaven that was Angel's skin and Angel's scent and, _oh, God_, Angel's cock, and Spike could only hope that he'd be able to hold out long enough for the brunet to come, but _Christ_, he hoped it was soon, because he was about to lose it any second now. Thankfully, it only took a few more strokes and he felt Angel's dick pulse as he came with a strangled cry of “Daddy!” Working himself almost frantically against his sire's shooting cock, Spike followed shortly after, grunting as he came, covering the both of them with a fresh flood of spunk.

He was panting when he could see straight again, only his wobbly arms holding him up and keeping him from collapsing down onto Angel- a very sticky, sweaty, but sated Angel, if the lopsided grin he turned up to Spike was any indication. Pushing himself off to the side, Spike flopped down on the sofa next to him, too busy trying to get some sort of equilibrium back to talk for a few minutes. Finally, he said softly, “Looks like we're both gonna need a bath- how about one with bubbles in it, mate?”

“Bubbles!” Angel cried, bounding off of the couch and hurrying for the bathroom. The sudden show of enthusiasm struck Spike to the quick- somewhere in their little gropefest, he'd forgotten that it wasn't his sire, wasn't his lover in there... at least, not the version of him that he desperately wished he had back, anyways. Forcing himself to his feet, he did his best to smile as he headed into the bathroom, trying not to let Angel see his grief and regret as he washed the evidence of his perversion away.


	6. Chapter 6

If Spike thought he'd spoiled Angel after that first night, it was nothing compared to what he was doing now. Anything the other vampire wanted, he got- belly rubs, ice cream, the lion's share of Spike's plate of barbecue ribs and hot wings, his choice of TV shows, and a special trip to the shopping mall, where the sky was the limit, although Spike did manage to say no to the leather pants, but that was more for his own sanity than anything else. Just the thought of Angel in leather was almost tempting enough to make him forget his promises- he didn't dare risk the reality.

He'd realized a few things after he'd gotten them both off in the living room, and they weren't pretty. The worst was that this sick, twisted thing between them was his fault- all of it. If he hadn't brought that damned magazine into the house in the first place, if he'd been able to recognize Angel's cries for help before he'd raped him, if he'd been strong enough, sensible enough, good enough to turn him away that first time, he wouldn't be where he was now, watching his sire's sweet innocence slip further and further away with every day. Spike scourged himself with ifs, flayed his soul with memories of Angel's whimpers and tears, but he was powerless against the dark voice of his demon and its seductive whispers of skin and soft moans. Every day he promised himself that today was the day he would stop, today was the day he would quit, and every night he fell once more to temptation.

His own soul might be damned beyond redemption, but there was still one hope for his sire's soul, one thing he hadn't tried- he could give Angel to Willow, ask the witch to take care of him. She'd do it, had offered more than once, and he'd turned her away each time, well aware that her small shop demanded too much of her time to allow her to really give Angel the care and attention he needed. Besides, he'd told himself, he was the one who'd failed in the alley, and it was only fitting that he be the one to deal with the results of that failure. If he'd been able to kill the demon that poisoned his sire before it got past him, Angel would be with him now, still whole, still annoying... still Spike's.

But he'd failed, and the demon had carried out its mission, leaving him to care for the shell of his sire until he dusted. And because he was the world's most colossal fuck-up, he'd managed to make a muddle of even that. He'd taken the one person who loved and accepted him, the one person since Dawn to look up to him and depend on him, and he'd betrayed his trust in the basest way. It didn't help that he was paying for it with his own soul and sanity, not when his dreams were filled with tortured cries and screams every night, while every morning he woke feeling dirtier and more ashamed of himself.

This thing between them was wrong. It was eating him alive, shredding his soul bit by bit with every passing night. He had to end it, for both their sakes- it would tear him apart, if he didn't stop it, and Angel too. Telling himself once again that tonight was the night, he wrung the dishcloth out and hung it over the sink, then headed into the living room.

Angel looked up as Spike sat down, but didn't say anything when he reached for the remote, just went back to reading his book. He'd been reading more over the last week than he had since the fight, and while _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_ might be a pretty far cry from Kirkegaard or Sartre, Spike couldn't help hoping that it meant that maybe, just maybe, his Angel was still in there somewhere. After a quick channel scan, Spike settled back against the couch to watch Man U hand Arsenal a well-deserved beating.

Three hours and five beers later, Becks had worked his magic, Arsenal had slunk off the field in defeat, and everything was right in Spike's world.

“Daddy.”

Well, almost everything. He turned to look at Angel, wondering when exactly he'd lost all sense of control.

“Daddy,” Angel purred again, the rich, dark velvet tones working just as they always had to make Spike hard enough to cut glass before the word had even registered.

“Not tonight, pet,” he croaked, clinging desperately to the small shred of reason that he had left.

Angel just smiled, slow and sultry, and crawled towards him. They'd done this dance for a week now, with Spike first protesting, and Angel persisting until eventually Spike gave in and got them both off. But not tonight. Tonight he meant it; tonight he was standing strong and doing the right thing. He just wished he could explain that to the erection that was pressing uncomfortably against his fly.

It didn't help that Angel was becoming more and more aggressive every night. He'd ended up stroking them both last night, his hand working over them in tandem with Spike's, and it had been so hot that Spike had been hard-pressed not to lost it with the first tentative touch. But it wasn't right- this sloe-eyed, wanton man-child wasn't his sire, wasn't about to take him to his bed and whisper, “Will” in his ear while they made love, and Spike couldn't forget that.

“No,” he repeated, but he could hear his voice faltering, and from the way Angel's smile deepened, he could hear it, too. One hand stroked up his thigh, sliding inexorably towards his straining hard-on, and Spike barely managed to catch hold of it in time. “Said no, didn't I?” he demanded, his temper flaring at the blatant disregard for his wishes. Angel tried to twist free, but Spike tightened his grip. “Dammit, Angel, leave off!”

A hard shove sent the bigger man reeling back, and before he could move for him again, Spike shot off the couch and all but ran into the bathroom.

“Daddy!” The plaintive call tugged at him, beckoned him back, but he refused to listen. It was for his own good, he told himself as he locked the door and tore his jeans open, his hands shaking so badly that he almost couldn't manage the tasks. He couldn't stand by and watch Angel's precious innocence destroyed, couldn't twist him into a caricature of the sire he missed so badly he could taste it. Wrapping his hand around his dick, Spike set his jaw and quickly stroked himself to an unsatisfying climax, doing his best to close his ears to the soft moans and low calls for Daddy that slowly tapered off from the living room.

As he washed his hands afterwards, Spike thought that for once, he was glad that vampires didn't have reflections- if he had to look up and see himself in the mirror, he thought he really would go completely mad. When he came out of the bathroom, Angel was gone, and the sight of his closed bedroom door was like a slap in the face. Spike hesitated before it, raised his fist to knock, then turned away. Better to let him sleep on it, and talk about it in the morning. He headed for his own room and the restless dreams he knew waited for him.


	7. Chapter 7

_They'd fed well that night, and after several bottles of brandy, were stumbling towards home. The blood and alcohol warmed him in a way that he dimly remembered from his human days, and the heated looks Angelus kept shooting him were warming him in a way that he'd never known before he became a demon. Spike stumbled, only to have Angelus catch him and press him into a nearby wall, pushing him up against the brick, large hands holding him steady._

He tilted his head back and smiled up at him, and then they were kissing, tongues slipping into each other's mouths as bodies pressed close. Angelus wasn't unaffected by the blood or drink either, and Spike moaned at the feeling of the older man's dick sliding over his through the layers of clothing they wore. “Will,” Angelus murmured, nipping his bottom lip. “My Will.”

“God, yes!” Spike gasped, tilting his head back, offering up his throat to his sire, his lover, his everything. He still sometimes foud himself baffled at the turn of fate that had brought him here, into Angelus' arms, but he didn't question it, too afraid that it might all turn out to be some kind of fevered dream. It had to be- nothing this wonderful could possibly be real, and when he eventually woke and discovered it was all a lie, his heart would shatter beyond repair. He didn't dare give voice to any of these feelings around Angelus, however, so he simply clung to the other man and moaned as his hips caught Angelus' rhythm and passion set fire to his blood.

Somehow he missed the walk back home, because he was spread out on the lush Persian rug before the fireplace, his skin burning as Angelus mapped his body with broad sweeps of his hands. “So beautiful,” he whispered, bending to rub his cheek over the silken length of his childe's cock. “So gorgeous when you're hard and begging for me, Will.” Then there was wetness around the tip of his cock and Spike cried out at the first stroke of Angelus' tongue. It soothed the fire inside and stoked it at the same time, taking him higher than he'd known he could go with every flick that teased him.

He writhed on the thick bearskin rug, fur stroking his skin as he opened for Angelus, hips arching up to drive himself deeper into the mouth that sank down on his cock. One finger stroked his hole and Spike shuddered, waiting for the inevitable thrust forward, aching for the thick feeling of fullness he knew was coming. “God, please, please, pleassssse,” he begged, whimpering when it retreated without breaching him.

“Shhhh, sweetheart, don't want to have it over with too fast,” Angelus murmured, kissing his hip. Spike reached down, but instead of his fingers sinking into his sire's lush mane, they brushed over short, prickly hair. “Never did know how to wait,” Angel teased him, smiling up at him just before he lowered his head again and took him in deep.

Spike groaned and tried to move, but one hand held him in place, pinning him down until he could only lay there and take it, submit to the sweet torture of Angel's mouth sliding along his dick, Angel's tongue flicking over the sensitive head, Angel's hand teasing his balls, cradling and rolling them until he thought he'd go insane. “God, sire, need it, need it, please!” he chanted, his cries crescendoing with each fresh onslaught of lust and need that swept over him like waves at the beach.

Finally, FINALLY, two fingers slid inside, filling him up in a way that he'd missed for far too long. Before he had time to adjust, Angel sank all the way back down, taking him into his throat. He swallowed just as those fingers twisted and hit that special spot, and there was no longer any possibility of control, no chance of holding back, nothing to do but scream as his world was rent asunder all over again. “Oh, FUCK!” Spike howled, bucking up as he unloaded in his lover's mouth. Angel moaned around him, drinking him down, and the feel of his throat moving around him was almost enough to make him come again...

His climax pulled him out of the most erotic dream he'd had in months. Spike jerked awake as his cock pulsed and he shot, coming harder than he had since that last afternoon, when Angel had taken him over and over again before sending him off to die in the alley, his body freshly marked from his sire's passion. He moaned and let the orgasm take him, riding it out until he fell back in a limp, panting puddle on the bed. It was only then that he noticed the distinct lack of stickiness in his sheets, and a second later that the slow sweep of something wet and slick over his softening flesh registered.

Bolting upright in the bed, he yanked the sheet away and stared in disbelief at the dark head that was bent over his crotch, nuzzling him and lapping up every last drop. “Angel?” he whispered, almost half-believing that maybe his dream had come true. Maybe it really was-

“Mmmm, Daddy,” he purred, licking his lips as he raised his head. Eyes nearly black with passion met Spike's, the indolent heat in their depths a perfect match for the smug satisfaction that practically oozed out of every pore.

Fury shot through Spike, paralyzing him under the grip of his sudden rage before he managed to force himself to move. One hand grabbed Angel's hair, yanking him off his dick with a savage jerk. “What the fuck do you think you were doin'?” he demanded. “You little shit, do you realize what you just did?!? Tryin' to be good here, makin' an effort to do the right thing an' all, an' here you are fuckin' it all up, goddammit!”

Angel reached out for him and Spike met him halfway with a hard backhand. The sharp sound of skin on skin rang out in the room, seeming to linger in the air for an inordinately long time. Angel stared at him, dark eyes huge and glistening with sudden tears. Spike swore under his breath and reached out towards him. “Baby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean-”

But Angel shrank away from him, then ducked under his outstretched arm and ran for his room. Spike flinched at the sound of the door slamming behind him, wondering if the hard thud marked the end of any chance he might ever have to get his Angel back as well.


	8. Chapter 8

Angel spent the day in his room, refusing to answer when first Daddy and then Tammy knocked on his door. He tried to sleep, but all his dreams ended in the same way, so eventually, he gave up and just lay on his bed, thinking. He knew he wasn't... right, anymore. Daddy never said why or what had happened, but he knew he'd been different, once. Like Daddy, strong and smart, and he'd gotten to wear whatever he wanted. And then something changed, something important, but nobody would tell him what it was. He used to ask Daddy and Red about it, but they always looked sad when he tried and told him not to worry about it, and he didn't like seeing them sad.

In his dreams, he was different. He was like Daddy then, and he and Daddy kissed just like the men in the magazine. The kisses seemed important, because they made Daddy smile, but when Angel tried to kiss Daddy like that when he was awake, but he'd been told to stop, and he hadn't been able to explain about the dreams or the feeling that he really, really needed to kiss Daddy. So he'd done what Daddy wanted- until last night, anyway. He'd known it was risky, sneaking into Daddy's bedroom while he slept, but the men in Daddy's magazine all seemed to really like it when someone put their mouth over their cock. He hadn't meant to make Daddy so angry; he'd just wanted him to smile like he did in the dreams.

Sometime around sunset, after spending most of the day caught between worry that Daddy might not come home that night and fear that he might find someone else that was better behaved than him, Angel stumbled upon a new emotion- righteous anger. He'd just wanted to make Daddy happy, wanted him to smile and hug him and kiss him and maybe even love him like the men in the magazine. He'd read a story that mentioned someone doing that to their Daddy, and even though he hadn't completely understood everything they'd talked about, he knew it had made their Daddy happy with them. But instead, Daddy had yelled and shoved him away. And worst of all, he'd hit him- hard! Angel's features hardened as a thundercloud stole over them at the memory of the hard hand that had sent him reeling backwards.

Well, maybe _he'd_ be the one to find someone else, then! Maybe he could find another Daddy, one who would stroke his hair and tell him stories the way Daddy used to. One that would teach him _everything_ in the magazine. That thought alone was enough to make up his mind, and his lips curved in a slow smile as he thought about what Daddy would say when he found out that Angel didn't need him anymore, that he had a new Daddy who wanted him there. When he heard the door close behind Tammy, he didn't hesitate. Going into Daddy's room, he took one of the leather pants and special shirts from the closet, then went to shower and get dressed.

It hadn't been easy figuring out where to look for a new Daddy; most people he asked gave him funny looks, but finally one man laughed and told him to head down to West Hollywood and try someplace named Control. Angel got into the taxi the man called over for him and listened as he gave the driver directions. When the driver asked, he handed him the money he'd stolen from Daddy's dresser, then sat back and tried to think about what his new Daddy might be like. He kept coming up with different images, but they all ended up looking like Daddy in the end, so he guessed he just had to wait and see.

The car pulled up in front of a squat little building, and when Angel got out, he could hear loud thumping coming out of it. Light spilled out as a door opened, so he walked towards it, nervously licking his lips as he got closer. A man in a black T-shirt almost as tight as Daddy's stopped him and asked what he wanted in a mean voice that nearly made leave, but he stammered out that he was looking for a new Daddy, and the man laughed and let him inside. Colored lights and noise and more people than he could remember ever seeing before swirled all around him, and Angel had to stop and close his eyes, then count to ten before he started walking again.

A bunch of men were in the middle of the floor, moving around on a bare space just like in the music videos, while others were lined up against one wall, watching them. Angel paused as one pushed away from the space, then walked over to one of the dancing men. His hands slid down to cup his rear, and he moved up against him the way Daddy sometimes pressed against Angel when they were wanking. That must be where the Daddies were, and as he saw another man walk over to the dance floor, Angel realized that he'd need to be there for a Daddy to choose him.

Slipping through the crowd, he took up a space near the edge and tried to imitate the men around him. They didn't look too much like Beyonce or Justin Timberlake, but maybe that was just for the videos. And while he felt silly, he must've done it right, because soon a hand slid over his rear, lightly stroking the leather there, and arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him back tightly against a hard chest. “Hello, gorgeous,” the man breathed in his ear. “You looking for a good time?”

“For a new Daddy,” Angel replied.

The man's chuckle sent a strange shiver down his spine. “I've never really gone in for the whole Daddykink thing, but you just might be able to change my mind.” He rubbed up against Angel, and Angel could feel his cock pressing against his rear. “Whaddaya say you and I get out of here, hmmm?”

Angel hesitated, but nodded, and the man grabbed his hand and led him off the floor towards a door in the back of the building. They stepped out into the alley, where the man reached out to wrap his hand around Angel's neck, pulling him close for a hard, bruising kiss. “Fuck, you're a sweet thing,” he breathed, when they broke apart. “Really gonna love seeing that pretty mouth wrapped around my cock. You want that?”

The memory of his mouth around Daddy's cock was enough to make his own hard, and Angel wondered if it would feel that good to do it again. “Yes, Daddy,” he said softly, flashing the man a sweet smile.

“Ohhhh yeah, think I could get used to that,” he groaned, kissing him again. “Get on your knees for Daddy, pretty boy.”

A hand pushed him down and Angel knelt on the ground, licking his lips as he reached out for the man's belt. He worked it open, then pushed the button of his jeans through the buttonhole, but before he could pull the zipper down, a voice roared, “Get the hell away from him!” He looked up to see Daddy striding towards them, his eyes glowing yellow.

Angel started to get up, but Daddy beat him to it. Curling his fingers around his collar, he yanked the bigger man to his feet and pushed him away from the man he'd been about to go down on. “What the fuck d'you think you're doin'?” he demanded, his voice hard and glittering, like knives that might slice into someone if he didn't like the answer.

“I- I-” Angel fumbled for words, and Daddy shook his head. “Fine, then. Deal with you later.” Turning to the man that he'd been dancing with, Daddy fisted one hand in his shirt and shoved him up against the brick wall. “Mind tellin' me why you had your hands all over my boy, mate?” he snarled.

The man tried to squirm away. “Hey, he never said he was yours, buddy.” Daddy apparently didn't like that answer because he shook him, knocking his head back against the brick, and the man yelled, “Look, take him, okay?”

“Oh, I'll take him, all right,” Daddy promised. “You see him here again, you keep your mitts off, you got that?” The man nodded frantically, and Daddy set him back down, then plowed his fist into his jaw, watching with as grim satisfaction as he crumpled. Once he was done, he turned to look at Angel. “And you. How about you tell me what the hell you think you're doin', sneakin' off an' whorin' yourself around like that?”

The anger came back and Angel glared at him. “I was looking for a new Daddy,” he spat. “You're not a good Daddy anymore and I want a real Daddy!”

Daddy shifted back into his human face, his eyes shining as he started towards Angel. “Oh, I'll be your Daddy,” he promised, the low purr in his voice making Angel's knees weak. “Bend you over right proper an' teach you what a little boy oughta do. That what you want, baby? Want Daddy to make you scream in all the right ways, that it?”

Angel opened his mouth to reply, but could only whimper and nod. Daddy stopped right in front of him and reached up to draw him down for a kiss just like the man had earlier. His tongue slid into Angel's mouth, tasting of cigarettes and beer, and Angel clung to him and thought how much better Daddy's kisses were than anybody else's. “Please, Daddy,” he begged softly when Daddy pulled away, not really knowing what he was asking for, but knowing he needed it.

Daddy's hand cupped his cheek, his thumb tracing Angel's bottom lip. “I'll fuck ya,” he promised softly. “Only you're gonna have to be a good boy, show Daddy you want it.” Stepping back, his hand fell away, and his face hardened. “Cause Daddy doesn't fuck disobedient little shits like you were tonight.”

The words sliced into him, but they made his cock throb at the same time. Bowing his head, Angel answered, “Yes, Daddy,” then followed Daddy out of the alley as he turned and walked away, promising himself that he was going to be on his very best behavior for the next few days.


	9. Chapter 9

Four days of waiting and watching, four days that had tested his patience to its very limits while he argued with himself, four days spent wrestling with questions that no vampire should ever have to face. At the end of it all, Spike was left with no better answers than he'd started with, only the lingering sense that, whatever he decided to do, he was almost certainly going to end up fucking up. And, since the conclusion was a certainty, he might as well enjoy the journey.

He waited until Angel was in the bath before he started getting ready, and when the other vampire emerged, clean and dressed in his sweatpants, he only managed to take two steps into the living room before he stopped dead in his tracks. Spike was sprawled out on the couch, his leather jeans opened to reveal his hard cock, which he stroked slowly, very aware of the wide, dark eyes that followed his every movement. Slowly looking up, he gave the other man a wicked smile and purred, “Wanna make Daddy feel good, baby boy?”

Angel swallowed hard, his sweatpants immediately tenting in a way that made Spike's mouth water. “Uh-huh,” he got out, stumbling forward, clumsy in his eagerness for what he'd been wanting for weeks now. He paused just out of arm's reach, then asked, “Daddy, are you-?”

Spike leaned forward and reached out to take his wrist, tugging him towards him until he could pull him down onto the sofa beside him. Stroking one cheek, he smiled softly at him and kissed him, a light brush of their lips that offered just a taste of what was to come. “Daddy's gonna fuck his boy tonight,” he replied. “Less you don't want it anymore, that is.”

“I do!” Angel blurted out, the eager gleam in his eyes making Spike laugh. Leaning his forehead against his sire's, he looked into his eyes, into the dark depths that never failed to make his chest tight. His Angel might not be there any longer, but this new creature, this sensual man-child, had somehow managed to find his own place in Spike's heart, and he couldn't deny it any longer. The blond threaded his fingers through the dark hair and pulled him down for a longer, more lingering kiss, his tongue gliding over Angel's lips, coaxing them open until his tongue could slip in to twine with his soon-to-be lover's.

When he finally pulled back, he could see the need in Angel's eyes, the same desperate yearning that he'd seen night after night, a silent plea for more that matched his own, and this time, Spike answered it. “Stand up, luv,” he murmured, coaxing the big man to his feet. Curling his fingers around the waistband, Spike eased the sweatpants over Angel's erection, then let them fall to the floor, uncaring of anything beyond the hard-on that had just been revealed. He feathered his fingertips along the hard length, teasing his way slowly up to the head. “Christ, you're beautiful,” he breathed, leaning forward to take Angel's cock in his mouth before he could think better of it.

“Daddy!” The high cry flew out of Angel's mouth with the first swipe of Spike's tongue, and he pulled back as though to answer it, then plunged forward again, taking him all the way in. Angel moaned, his voice shaking, and Spike squeezed his dick one more time, then brought his hands up to hold Angel's hips steady as he began to bob his head back and forth. How often had he done this for Angel, sucked him off in carriages, beneath tables and desks and in alleys, dropping to his knees at a word or look from his sire? Thousands, maybe ten-thousands of times, but always as a preface to Angel fucking him. Tonight, he was going to fuck Angel, and the thought made him nearly wild for it.

He'd planned to tease him, planned to lay him out and kiss him everywhere, make him writhe and call out for him and beg for it, and while Spike still had every intention of keeping the begging part of it, the whole slow seduction bit went out the window with the soft gasps and shaky pleas of, “Oh, Daddy! More, Daddy, please, more!” that were a steady litany above him. His hand slid down to cradle Angel's balls, rolling the heavy sacs in his palm as he plunged all the way down and swallowed, then pulled back to flick his tongue over the slit. A hard suck on the head made Angel cry out, and Spike knew he couldn't hold back much longer.

Raising his head, he looked up into wide eyes and asked, “Wanna come, baby? Wanna shoot right in Daddy's mouth, feel Daddy swallow you allllllll down, hmmm?” He took a slow lick of the leaking tip, savoring the rich taste of Angel's precome on his tongue while he waited for his answer.

“Yes, Daddy,” Angel said sweetly, moaning as Spike's tongue circled the head of his cock. “Ohhhh, yes, Daddy!”

Spike's only answer was to take him deep once more. When he felt the thick length slide into his throat, he nestled his nose into the dark curls, breathing in the musky scent, and swallowed. Angel groaned above him, hips jerking forward instinctively. Spike swallowed around him once more before he felt Angel's dick twitch, a faint flutter of movement that was all the warning he had before it was pulsing, coming in thick streams down his throat while Angel cried out, hands cradling Spike's skull, holding him close as his orgasm overwhelmed him.

Spike drank him down, then pulled back to catch the last few spurts on his tongue, almost purring as he rolled the taste around in his mouth. He'd always loved that, would've happily subsisted on it alone in his first few years as a vampire, and in all his time on earth, had found only Slayer's blood a better treat. Licking him clean with long strokes of his tongue, Spike slowly sat back, hand moving back to his cock as he looked up at the dazed Angel and tried to decide where he wanted to go next. “Like that, baby?”

“Ohhhhh yes, Daddy!” Angel shivered, then looked down at Spike's erection. “But you didn't- I mean, Daddy, can I-” He stopped, licking his lips nervously, clearly remembering the last time he'd tried to take some kind of initiative and the disastrous aftermath.

Spike stroked himself slowly, leaning back against the cushions to give his boy a better view. “Baby wants a treat, is that it?” He smiled at the breathy “Uh-huh” that answered him, but pretended he hadn't heard to draw the game out a little longer. “Need somethin' to suck on, don'tcha, baby? Mouth's all waterin', wants somethin' long an' hard an' thick to wrap around, doesn't it?”

Angel never looked away from Spike's dick. “Please, Daddy,” he begged.

“What do you want, baby?” Spike coaxed. “Tell Daddy.” He saw the hesitation flicker over the other man's features, and realized that he might not have the words for it, so he added, “You wanna suck Daddy's cock, is that it, sweetheart?”

He nodded, then blurted out, “Please, Daddy, can I suck your cock?” Hearing the filthy words come out of his sweet innocent mouth was almost enough to make Spike yank him down for it, but he managed to control the impulse at the last second, clamping his hand hard around the base of his erection to hold back the surge of lust that threatened to overwhelm him.

When he could speak again, he licked his lips and purred, “Come suck Daddy, baby,” stroking himself once more before he let his hand fall away.

Angel kicked his sweatpants off and knelt down between his legs, reaching for his cock with shaking hands that almost made Spike stop him before he heard the other man groan and realized that it was hunger that made him so unsteady. Deciding to help out, he cupped one hand around Angel's head, gently drawing him down to his lap. “Lick it,” he instructed, moaning softly when a wet tongue flicked over him in a catlike caress. Up and down, Angel licked him until Spike ground out, “Need to be in your mouth.”

Immediately, Angel's lips wrapped around him and he slid into the sleek, silken cavern of his mouth. “Oh, God,” Spike moaned, tilting his head back against the couch. “That's good, baby, so good.” Angel slowly moved further down, taking him in deeper, then pulled back and sucked on the head. It was far from an expert blowjob, but the slight hesitation and clumsiness just made it all the hotter. Like having a virgin, but without the fear or need to coax them into it, all of it wrapped up in a slippery, wet package that was unravelling every last strand of control Spike possessed.

Spike combed his fingers through the dark hair, guiding him along for a moment. “Fuck, that's it,” he gasped as his balls started to tingle. “Gonna make Daddy come soon, baby boy. You want that, huh? Wanna feel Daddy come in your sweet mouth, yeah?”

He nodded and started to take him deep once more, but Spike stopped him. “Just the head, baby. Wanna watch you drink me down,” he instructed him, smiling at the brief confusion that appeared. Angel slid back, keeping just the head of Spike's cock in his mouth, and as soon as obeyed, Spike reached down to wrap his hand around his length. “Gonna watch you take it,” he muttered, stroking himself hard and fast. “Wanna see it when I come, see you- shit!”

It hit him like a freight train, and the sight of Angel's eyes widening when the first shot hit the back of his throat was the most delicious thing he'd ever known. “Ohhhh fuck yeah!” Spike moaned, thrusting up into his fist as he pumped every last drop out into Angel's mouth, milking his dick for everything he had to give. He watched Angel's throat move as he swallowed, and promised himself that soon, he'd feel it moving around his cock as he came. But right now... “Lick me clean,” he told him. “Get Daddy hard again so's he can fuck his pretty boy, yeah?”

Angel whimpered something that sounded like an agreement, then quickly set about licking Spike clean, swirling his tongue over the sensitive flesh with each slow caress. Spike felt himself starting to harden again and he tugged lightly on the short hair, pulling him back until he could tug him up into his lap. Angel moaned as he was dragged down for another long kiss. Finally, Spike broke away and gasped, “Bedroom. Now.”

He ended up having to push Angel off his lap, fighting the temptation to bury himself inside him right then and there. It wasn't an easy task by any means, not with his sire crawling all over him, naked and hungry, rubbing up against him until Spike very nearly forgot all his plans. But the desire to make Angel beg won out, and after several stops to kiss and grope, they finally stumbled into the bedroom.

“Get on the bed,” Spike growled, shoving his pants down, swearing when the leather didn't slide off nearly as easily as his usual denim did. Leather might be sexy as hell, but it was really only good if you were planning on a quick open-and-take, the way Angelus usually did. For the kind of long, sweaty fucks Spike preferred, naked was an absolute necessity, and leather just got in the way. He bent over to push the pants all the way down, then straightened and stepped out of them.

The momentary annoyance over his pants fled the second he turned his attention to Angel. He'd stretched out on his back and now lay on Spike's bed like some kind of wanton offering to the gods. Hands moved restlessly over his own body, driven by a hunger and need to touch that sent a shock of heat right through the watching vampire. God, this was going to be good!

Starting at the bottom of the bed, Spike crawled up the length of the mattress, nudging Angel's legs further apart as he moved until he settled comfortably between them. He bent to nip one tight nipple, smiling at the soft mew the action provoked, then slid further up for a teasing kiss. “Need somethin', pet?” he asked softly, stroking one hand down Angel's side.

“Please, Daddy,” Angel whimpered. “Need you to- to fuck me!”

With another kiss, Spike pulled away, shushing Angel when he started to protest. “Shhh, baby. Gotta get you ready, open you up for Daddy's cock, yeah?” He reached for the lube by the bed, the sound of the cap opening sending a shiver of anticipation through him that made him ache. “Turn over, pet. On all fours for me, show that pretty little hole.”

Angel rolled over and rose up onto his hands and knees, opening his legs when Spike slid a knee between them. The blond stroked a hand down his back, splaying his fingers wide to get as much skin as possible before he slid down to cup the firm swell of his ass. Slicking two fingers up, Spike brushed one against the tiny pucker of Angel's hole, and when he heard his breath catch, he pressed forward, slowly pushing his way into Angel's body. He moved back and forth a little, careful to avoid his prostate until he'd wormed the second finger in, and then he curled them and pressed against it.

The reaction was instantaneous. Angel's head snapped up and his mouth fell open, a strangled sound escaping. Spike smiled and stroked it again. “You like that, baby?”

“Ohhhh yes, Daddy!”

“Didn't know you had that, didja?” Spike pulled back, twisting his fingers as he drove them back inside, corkscrewing as he worked to open his sire up for him.

Angel moaned, and when Spike drew back again, he tried to follow him. The movement was awkward, but clear, and Spike stilled. “Wanna fuck yourself on Daddy's fingers, is that it? Feel 'em drivin' inside you?”

“Yes... please, Daddy... “ Angel rocked forward and then back, spitting himself on Spike's fingers, barely noticing when two became three. He found his rhythm soon enough, and moaned as Spike twisted to hit his prostate again.

“Fuck, you're gorgeous like that,” Spike groaned, dropping his free hand down to stroke his dick. He knew he could easily get off just watching this, and he promised himself that he'd spend one night soon doing just that while he made Angel come over and over again, but not now. Easing his fingers free, he picked the lube back up and thoroughly covered his cock with it.

“Nooooo,” Angel whimpered when Spike's fingers slipped out of him.

“Shhh, sweetheart. Daddy's got somethin' even better for you, make you see stars,” Spike told him, nudging his legs farther apart as he moved up behind him. Reaching down to guide himself into place, he closed one hand around Angel's hips to hold him as he pushed forward.

He could tell the instant Angel really felt it, because he stiffened and tried to pull away. Spike stopped his movement, but held the other man fast. “Easy, baby. Gotta get through this part, yeah? Breathe out an' push down, show me how much you want me in there.”

Angel hesitated, then bore down and Spike slipped forward another inch. Reaching around to close his slick fingers around his cock, he rewarded him with a hard stroke that made him shudder. He had to grit his teeth to keep from just plunging ahead, but somehow Spike managed to work Angel's cock until he was fully inside, his balls pressed flush up against his ass. Bending down to kiss the base of his neck, he whispered, “Feel that, baby? Feel Daddy's cock inside you? Got it all the way in now an' it feels so fuckin' good... like havin' Daddy inside, baby?”

“Ohhhhh yes, Daddy!” He shuddered, the movement rippling around Spike's cock until he thought he might scream. Pulling Angel along with him, Spike knelt up, wrapping one arm around his chest to hold him close. He drew back just a little, then pressed forward, slowly starting to move. Angel mewled and tried to squirm, but Spike held him still.

“Shhh, baby. Can't do that or Daddy's gonna lose it.” God only knew he was close enough to that, anyways. He fucked him with short strokes, tiny thrusts that tested the very limits of his control. “Like that, baby? Tell Daddy how it feels.”

“So big,” Angel panted. “So hard and... ooooooohhhh, Daddy!” Spike had changed his angle to hit his prostate, and the rub over it seemed to knock something in the brunet loose, because he started babbling, “Fuck, Daddy, that's so good, need you to fuck me, fuck me, oh God! My boy, my beautiful boy, fucking me so gooooood- shit! Need you, need it- fuck, bite me, Daddy, please!”

The words had made Spike pull back in shock, and when Angel tilted his head, bared his throat, and begged for the bite, he lost it. Reaching down to wrench Angel's legs further open, he started fucking him harder, shoving up into him until the smacking sound of flesh meeting flesh filled the room. “Fuck, that's it,” he growled. “Want Daddy to bite ya, huh? Is that it?”

“Yes, Daddy!”

“Want me to mark you for mine, show everyone whose boy you are?” Spike snarled, sliding one hand into his hair and wrenching his head further to the side, his eyes hungrily tracing the line of his neck. Fuck, was he really about to do this?

“Please, Daddy!” Angel gasped.

“Mine!” The word burst out before he could think better of it. Spike shifted and struck, sinking his fangs deep into Angel's throat as he slammed his cock deep inside him. His balls drew tight, giving him just enough time to shove his wrist up against Angel's lips for him to bite into before the blood and sex combined to make him come harder than he had in over a century. Angel's teeth sliced into his skin and Spike moaned, drawing hard on his neck, pulling blood from him in a long rush as his cock jerked and he shot into Angel, his hips still moving, forcing the streams up high into his body. He heard Angel howl, the sound muffled by his arm, and then he felt him come, felt the rhythmic contractions around his still-hard cock as it rippled through him. The smell of spunk was heavy in the air, salt and musk mingling with their shared blood to form an irresistibly mouth-watering aroma.

When he could manage to move again, Spike found that they'd fallen somehow, and he was licking Angel's neck, swirling his tongue over the torn flesh there like some giant cat while Angel did the same thing to his wrist. Kissing the back of his neck, the blond mumbled, “Daddy's boy now,” feeling Angel smile against him just before he drifted off to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

He didn't know exactly what woke him up, whether it was the faint glimmer of light around the edges of the curtains, the scent of blood and sex that still lingered around them, or Angel's hand stroking his cock, but if he'd had to put money on it, Spike would've guessed it was the latter. Fingers moved over hardening flesh, touching and learning, coaxing him to a full erection that soon matched the one straining against his hip. Spike moaned and thrust into the massive fist, but kept his eyes closed, curious to see how far he was willing to go to 'wake' him. If he played his cards right, he might end up with another spectacular blow job like the last time his boy had decided to wake him up. And this time, he planned on doing what he should've done the first time- fuck him into the mattress afterwards.

But apparently a blow job wasn't in the cards that morning. Instead, lips brushed lightly over his in a kiss that was at once tender and hot, and a tongue traced the curve of his mouth until he opened for it so it could slip in and twine around his own. When they finally parted, a husky voice whispered, “Will.”

Spike's chest tightened, longing for the sire he'd lost far too soon curling around his heart and tearing at it with the single word. God, why'd he have to say that _now?_ But as much as he wanted to demand answers, he knew he had to let go. Angel was gone, and Spike couldn't hold his absence against the man who held him, couldn't continue to blame him for something he'd had no part in, so he forced the tears back and opened his eyes.

A warm, brown gaze met his, humor and intelligence shining in the dark depths. Angel smiled and nuzzled Spike's cheek, purring softly, “Good morning, sleepyhead.” It had been a common greeting in the years before the soul, when Angelus used to rouse him in the late mornings for a lazy few hours of daytime coupling, and hearing it now, when his eyes looked like that...

“A- Angel?” His voice shook, hope warring with experience as he fought to keep from demanding to know if it was really his sire that held him. “Are you- I mean-”

One finger stopped any more questions. “It's me, Spike,” he answered quietly.

Spike's mouth fell open and he stared up at Angel in unabashed wonder, hardly able to believe that it was finally his Angel at last. “But- the fight, and then you...” He trailed off and shook his head. “How?” he asked softly.

Angel didn't answer him, just took his mouth in another searing kiss that curled his toes, and Spike was left wondering how he'd ever done without Angel-kisses when he came up for air. His boy last night had kissed him with a fumbling sweetness, but this... this was Angel in all his glory- sensual, dominating, sure of himself, and hot as all hell. One large hand slid down to cradle his balls, rolling them in the way that only Angel could, and Spike moaned, “Bloody hell, Angel.”

Angel laughed and pushed him down into the mattress, trailing kisses down along his neck to the faded scar that marked his turning, scraping his teeth lightly over it. “Mine,” he purred, biting down a little harder until Spike arched under him and gasped out, “Yours!”

Suddenly pulling back, Angel caught hold of one of Spike's hands and drew it up to the fresh mark on his own neck. “Yours,” he told him.

Holy hell, was that it? Had the answer really been there all along, just waiting for him to- Understanding slammed into him like a freight train and Spike stroked his thumb over the bite, smiling when Angel moaned in response. “Mine,” he agreed.

Angel bent to kiss him again, and everything else ceased to matter except Angel's lips and Angel's hands and Angel's skin and, _oh, God_, Angel's cock sliding against his own in a rhythm that threatened to drive him insane. Spike was panting when the older man drew back. “Sure hope you're plannin' on doin' somethin' about that,” he groaned, automatically thrusting up against Angel when he stilled.

“Actually, I was hoping you'd take care of it,” Angel ground out.

Spike pulled back to ask what he meant, but the thought vanished when his sire rolled onto his back and spread his legs, then gave him that shy smile that went straight to his heart and asked softly, “Fuck me, Daddy?”

There was only one answer for a request like that, and Spike promptly gave it. He'd worry about figuring everything out afterwards- for now, he had his lover back, and that was all he needed.


End file.
